"But there's nothing to be done," he pointed out; it was not like this ruthless woman to waste time crying over spilt milk. "They are both of age, and they are married; that's all there is to it. I went into the mayor's office and found the registry. The marriage is all right so far as that goes. As for David--men don't go out with a gun or a horsewhip in these fine times. He won't do anything. For that matter, he is well rid of her. I told him so. I might have added that the best thing a jilted man can do is to go down on his knees and thank God that he's been jilted; I know what I'm talking about! As for your son--" he stopped. "Yes," she said, "_my son?_" And even in his fury, Robert Ferguson felt a pang at the sight of her torn and ravaged face that quivered so that he turned his eyes away out of sheer decency. "I must do something for my son. And I think I know what it will be." She bit her forefinger, frowning with thought. "I think I know ... I have not done right by Blair." "No, you haven't," he said dryly. "Have you just discovered that? But I don't see what you or I or God Almighty can do _now_! They're married." "Oh, I can't do anything about this marriage," she said, with a gesture of indifference; "but that's not the important thing." "Not important? What do you mean?" "I mean that the important thing is to know what made Blair behave in this way; and then cure him." "Cure him! There's no cure for rottenness." He was so beside himself with pain that he forgot that she was a woman, and Blair's mother. "I blame myself for Blair's conduct," she said. "Oh, Elizabeth is as bad as he is!" But he waited for her contradiction. It did not come. "Probably worse." Involuntarily he raised a protesting hand. "But I mean to forgive her," said Sarah Maitland, with cold determination. "Forgive Elizabeth?" he said, angrily, and his anger was the very small end of the wedge of his own forgiveness; "forgive _her_? It strikes me the boot is on the other leg, Mrs. Maitland." "Oh, well," she said, "what difference does it make? I guess it's a case of the pot and the kettle. I'm not blaming your girl overmuch; although a bad woman is always worse than a bad man. In this case, Elizabeth acted from hate, and Blair from love; the result is the same, of course, but one motive is worse than the other. But never mind that--Blair has got her, and he will be faithful to her; for a while, anyhow. And Elizabeth will get used to him--that's Nature, and Nature is bigger than a girl's first fancy. So if David doesn't interfere--you think he won't? you don't know human nature, Friend Ferguson! David isn't a saint--at least I hope he isn't; I don't care much about twenty-seven-year-old male saints. David may not be able to interfere, but he'll try to, somehow. You wait! As for Blair, as I say, if David doesn't put his finger in the pie, Blair isn't hopeless." "I'm glad you think so."